Astoria: Part One

Jordan: Chapter Eight

Jordan Forrester ran through the park on a Saturday, getting wolf-whistles and cat-calls from several men loitering.
She didn't hear them though, she had her earbuds in, jamming "Sweet Dreams" by the Eurythmics.
Had she heard these men, she probably would have confronted them, she had no aversion to confrontation, and she usually won.

Earlier in the day, she had been cleaning her room, and came across her mother's guitar-case again.
This brought on her the need to run, to clear her head.
So she took her marine-issue pants off, threw on a pair of polyester white shorts and a tank-top over her bra, and started on her way.
Jordan was running faster than usual, and tiring out quicker.

She turned down a long, but popular biking trail. People liked to walk this trail, and even though it wasn't paved, it usually had people on it.

Jordan couldn't get her mother out of her head.
She was on the edge of a grief-driven breakdown. Jordan's mom was the one person she felt like never judged her. She knew Jordan's heart, deep down...and that was comforting.

While deep in thought, she tripped over a upward jutting root, and tumbled.
Jordan didn't feel hurt, she didn't think, but her iPhone and attached earbuds flew out of her pocket and ears, cracking on impact.

Jordan slowly sat on the dirt trail, taking her phone in her hands, examining it.
The cracks made a spiderweb effect over the screen, but it still functioned.

"Fucking great..." Jordan sighed to herself.

She would need to see about getting it fixed or possibly replacing it.

Her mind went to another place where she was not a master of her feelings.

Heather Owly had invited her to dinner, and she was going.
But she wasn't sure what this event was called.
If this was clearly a date, she would need to re-evaluate some things, and if it was clearly a friendly dinner, she would breathe a sigh of relief.
Not that she wouldn't go out with Heather if she had asked, but she wasn't great at dealing with her emotions and no-one knew she was a lesbian.
Many people guessed.
But people who knew her, knew her family didn't think much of it, she was very similar to both of her brothers and her father.
Her mother, on the other hand, was girly, dainty even. Not at all like Jordan, and when she passed Jordan had no other feminine role models, so she became even more rough and hard.

But Heather was very small, and girly.

Jordan caught herself blushing at the thought of Heather on a bed, looking innocently at her, in lacy pink underwear. She began to stand but felt her knees were weak, so she sat back down.

Did thinking about Heather do that?

Jordan tried to stand again and succeeded, but when she did, she found a trickle of blood running down her leg.
She looked and saw an inch-long shard of glass in her right thigh.

"How the hell didn't I feel that?" She wondered aloud to herself.

She decided she'd better go home, but that she would walk, which would take at least an hour.

Jordan's 'date' was on Tuesday, and she knew she was going to overthink the whole thing.
A movie would be a more common date for high-schoolers than dinner.
Heather had said 'as a way of saying thank you' which could have been sincere, or a clever excuse to ask her out. But it seems a little out of Astoria High's league to have voted a lesbian, or at least bisexual girl, as cheer-captain.
Unusual indeed.
So maybe it wasn't a date.

Jordan's heart sank a little at the thought. But she'f see her again before the date, she could ask about it.
'What am I? Crazy? So much could go wrong...' she thought to herself.

She passed a man, walking in the opposite direction.

"Hey, miss, are you okay?" He asked looking concerned.

"Fine," she said shortly and continued on.

Her wound was actually starting to hurt now.

And if she did ask Heather if it was a date, her secret could get out. That would be the worst way for people to find out.
Her father especially.
Jordan wasn't sure what he would think. He was traditional in most of his thinking, but then when you'd think you have his beliefs figured out, he would surprise you.
She didn't even want to touch the subject, even hypothetically.
She looked at the time on her phone; 12:00pm.

Jordan turned down the sidewalk onto her street. The wound was throbbing.

She then wished Heather had given her her number, that would be a pretty clear sign.
She also said 'you can never have to many friends'.
But Heather was excited when she said yes, too, and she was giggly and smiling after that point.
Jordan remembered how Heather scrunched her nose whenever she smiled.
Maybe it was a date?

Jordan came upon her driveway and and saw that she had stained her white sock with blood.

"Fuck's sake," she mumbled.

She went inside and took her shoes off at the door. Sarge was sitting a few feet from the door, his head cocked.
Her stained sock came off after her shoes, and she held it to her wound to make sure she didn't drip on the carpet.

In the bathroom, she was sitting on the toilet, going through the extensive first aid supplies most marines keep in their homes.

She took tweezers, suturing thread, a stitching needle, hydrogen peroxide, medical tape, gauz, neosporin and ibuprofen and put the rest back.
She popped a couple pills of ibuprofen into her mouth and washed it down with tap water from the sink.
Jordan threaded the needle, knowing her hand would be too shaky to do it later.
She picked up the tweezers and hesitated. She put them back down.
Jordan took her tanktop off and bit down on it, picking the tweezers back up.

She placed the tweezers on either side of the glass and began to slowly pull it out.

It hurt, but it had to be done, and that wasn't even the painful part.
She took a rag and used it to wipe away some of the blood, and positioned her leg over the bathtub.
Jordan then picked up the hydrogen peroxide.

This was going to suck.

She poured it over the wound and bit down on the tanktop.
The painful burning sensation was almost overwhelming, it was like burning your hand on the stove, you could be stepping on a nail and not feel it over the burning.
It foamed up around the wound and she shakily placed the peroxide on the counter.
She took the needle which was threaded and put it through her leg, on one side of the wound, out the other, gasping in pain.
Then again, in one side; out the other.

Jordan hated how she sounded when she was in pain, weak and helpless.

Then once more, in one side; out the other.
She moaned in pain again.
She bit the thread off, and put the needle back.
She grabbed the hydrogen peroxide once more.
Still wincing from the needle, she knew it would be worse this time.

She poured a little on the wound and stopped, crying out in pain.
After a few seconds, she poured some more.
She was trying to be quiet.
She put the cap back on the peroxide and set it on the edge of the tub.
Jordan then picked up the neosporin, and squeezed some onto the wound, spreading it with her finger.
Then she took the gauz and medical tape, placing the gauz pad on the wound and wrapping it up with medical tape.

She was done.

Jordan just hoped the date would be less painful.